


Obedience

by entanglednow



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-30
Updated: 2009-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bennet rather thinks that invisible and annoyed over there, is considerably better than invisible and annoyed, and on the loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obedience

  
The handcuffs rattle pointedly in a way that's clearly annoyed. Which Bennet takes to assume that Claude is currently _invisible_ and annoyed. Bennet rather thinks that invisible and annoyed over there, is considerably better than invisible and annoyed, and on the loose. He doesn't mention as much, of course, the room is perhaps not that spacious.

"I'm not going to argue with you while you're invisible," Bennet tells him. Which is only sensible.

There's a moderate period of _irritated_ invisible silence. Until the irritated silence is visible once again. Claude is, in actuality, much more annoyed when he's visible.

"What the fuck, Bennet?" He says tightly, then shifts a little, so he can see where Peter has made himself comfortable in the chair behind him. "And you, you filthy little turncoat!" Claude accuses, Peter simply shrugs.

"We handcuffed you because you have a nasty habit of disappearing, and that's a perfectly good way to make sure you don't."

"So what, Bennet? You decided you'd handcuff me here and what? Do perverted things to me?" Claude rattles the metal pointedly.

"No, I thought perhaps I'd give Peter the chance."

Claude raises an eyebrow.

"Peter couldn't dominate his way out of wet paper sack," he says dismissively. He doesn't even bother to pretend he's not looking straight at him when he says it. Peter doesn't look away though.

"Would you like that, Peter?" Bennet asks, like Claude never spoke.

Peter shifts in the chair, then slides out of it.

"Yeah," he says simply.

When he steps forward Bennet catches him, draws his jacket over his shoulders in one movement, and Peter submits willingly to his hands when he takes his shirt too. They move to his waist, unzip him, before sliding pants and shorts low enough that gravity takes them down. Peter shivers when that leaves his bare thighs under Bennet's hand. Bennet takes that as permission, and doesn't necessarily hurry to remove them.

Claude is carefully pretending he's not watching, pretending he doesn't care, though there are certain things nudity _cannot_ hide.

Bennet won't pretend he doesn't find Peter Petrelli almost irritatingly attractive himself. But he does leave him long enough to step over and catch the edge of Claude's waist. The handcuffs rattle when Bennet shoves him round in the sheets, leaving his arm twisted on the wall.

"You fuck," Claude grumbles, but he doesn't fight, simply moves his arm into a better position, knee skidding on the sheets, shaking hair out of his face. He doesn't protest when Peter touches him, slides against him, hands on his back and shoulders, then moving down to catch his waist.

"Alright this isn't prom, get the _fuck_ on with it."

Peter huffs laughter, and drags a bottle of lotion out of the tangled sheets, while Bennet unlaces his shoes. He takes a moment to breathe, listening to the sound of feet on carpet, and the long, low sound of Claude breathing while Peter touches him. Until the noise Claude makes suggests Peter's enthusiasm is not going to be an issue. Bennet has to set his shoes and socks down and turn round again.

Peter already looks half gone, slick fingers pushing into Claude in long, steady slides. He's breathing too fast, his cock a rigid line against Claude's thigh. It draws Bennet forward again. He slides in behind him, steals the lotion and then reaches down and wraps a hand round Peter's cock. Peter inhales sharply, and his fingers stop moving. He pushes into Bennet's hand, short, greedy little slides, then he groans in understanding when Bennet catches his other wrist, gently pulls his fingers free, before moving his hand to catch Claude's hip.

"Does he not know how to do it himself then?" Claude says tartly. Though there's a air of impatience about the question.

Bennet's other hand flattens in the middle of Claude's spine, bending him just a little, and from there it's just a question of using his own body weight to push Peter forward.

He watches him press inside, all the way in, watches Claude's spine shift into a more comfortable position. While Peter tenses and relaxes under Bennet's hands, breath shaking out of him, while his fingers dig tight into skin. Any remarks Claude might have wanted to make are cut in half, there's just air, and a swallow that ends in a sound which is most certainly appreciative.

He swears under his breath when Peter's impatience sets him into motion. Bennet slides his jacket off, and Claude doesn't miss the movement.

"Are you going to fuck me too?" His voice is flat and accusatory, but the way he's watching Bennett is something different entirely.

"No," Bennet takes a few extra seconds to fold his jacket. "No, I thought I'd fuck Peter instead."

Claude hisses and turns his head, back briefly one long line of tension under Peter's careful thrusts.

Bennet doesn't miss the shivery little exhale the words get him from the younger Petrelli either, hips losing their rhythm for just a second. The reaction makes him less careful with his slacks, he leaves them on the floor, a little impatience is sometimes understandable after all.

He catches Peter's hips, tests his enthusiasm for being bent over Claude and fucked himself. Peter doesn't object, he groans and stops long enough to move one of his legs up, knee pressed into the bed. Then he leans further over Claude, who gives an annoyed grunt, hand flattening on the wall above him.

"Get the fuck on with it Bennet, and stop sodding about."

Peter has left the tumbled lotion on the bed, and Bennet slides a wet hand over himself, before pressing close, pushing fingers inside Peter, careful wet little thrusts, that go deep every time he shifts back, until there's a little catch in his throat. Then Bennet pushes inside, almost immediately has to stop, has to piece together his control all over again.

"Never fucked the boy before have you?" Claude says raggedly. "He likes it rough by the way."

Bennet has worked very hard at his control, but Claude has always, _always_ managed to get his fingers in the cracks.

"He'll do pretty much anything if you get him hot enough -"

The end of the sentence is lost under a particularly hard shove. Bennet suspects the punishment is Peter's decision that time, and he breathes laughter against his neck.

"Don't drag me into your fucked up little partnership," Peter says hoarsely.

"I think we already did, considering you're fucking me and everything." Claude almost sounds amused, though he is technically correct.

Peter groans, tilts his head back, Bennet turns into his throat, finds the skin briefly fascinating, and indulges himself. Peter bends under the attention, encourages it with tight little noises. Noises Bennet quickly learns out how to draw out with hard but pointed twitches of his hips.

"Boy has all the self-control of a fucking lemming," Claude grumbles, and Peter sucks a breath at something he does, and bends forward.

"Be nice Claude." Bennet doesn't even bother to hold the laughter that time.

"I was being nice, I was being very nice, he should fucking _appreciate_ it." Claude groans out the end of the sentence, hand sliding on the wall.

Peter makes a noise which couldn't be classed as anything _other_ than appreciative.

"You bitch about my misbehaviour but you always come back to abuse it for your own ends, don't you?" Claude stretches back, all aggressive push, designed to shove Peter into Bennet. Though Bennet suspects Claude is the one left breathless by the movement.

"Sandra always did think you deserved a good spanking," Bennet says conversationally.

"You should invite her next time, Noah. I bet _she_ could manage to fuck me harder than either of you."

Bennet finds that mental image unexpectedly arousing, can't quite help the shove of his hips, which happens almost without his permission. Peter chokes on a moan, pressing down into Claude, and Claude grunts under the impact, then laughs in his throat like he's winning.

Peter takes Bennet's new enthusiasm with a low hot little noise of appreciation. He hitches a breath and pushes back, pushes back _hard,_ cock nearly slipping out of Claude.

"I think the boy enjoys being ploughed a little too much," Claude's voice is rough. "He's getting distracted."

"Jesus," Peter says thinly, and it's as much as an admission. But the shiver that results makes Bennet inclined to forgive him. His hair's just long enough to hold, and he makes the most incredible noises when Bennet pulls his head back. It's so hard to hold him in position when he insists on moving. That tight slip-slide of skin and _enthusiasm_. It really would be very easy to become distracted. He can sympathise, really he can.

"Make him come," Claude says fiercely, his voice has gone low and loose, all ragged edges that Bennett knows well enough.

He reaches forward and lays a hand on Claude's back, feels it bend, and then push back into Peter's slim hips. Bennet can feel every impact at the base of his cock, and he's rapidly losing all focus. His world has become very narrow indeed. But it turns out Peter doesn't need the help, he's already breathing low and broken, fingers dug into Bennet's arm and Claude's waist. He's pushing for the edge himself, hair sliding against the side of Bennet's face, skin hot and shifting when Bennet presses down, presses inside, all the way inside, as deep as he can go.

Claude's head has dropped, back muscles tensing and relaxing, and all that's coming out of his mouth now are wet bursts of air and short, bitten off groans.

For all his tight sarcastic remarks Claude comes first, no longer even bothering to try and hide the thick helpless noise he makes. Peter's dragged down with him, hips pushing in desperation rather than rhythmm while Bennet digs his fingers into Peter's hips and lets the quick wet flex of his body draw his own release out of him.

Peter's barely holding himself up when Bennet, momentarily, stops holding his own weight.

And then he's not.

Claude makes a irritated, unhappy noise.

"I fucking hate you both."


End file.
